


Thanks for the Memories

by theanonymouslibrarians



Series: Soulmates [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Trauma, Unwilling soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theanonymouslibrarians/pseuds/theanonymouslibrarians
Summary: Years after his imprisonment, Grindelewald still has one prisoner.





	Thanks for the Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Harry Potter, or any of their characters.

The thing none of the books on Soulmate Syndrome tell you is that sometimes it can go very, very wrong. Oddly enough for a condition that affects only 1% of the wizarding population, there are enough books on it to create a small library. Even more if one counts the countless tawdry romance novels one can buy for a knut from any convenience store. Not one of them delves into what happens if your soulmate is a psychopath. 

Of course, Graves reflects, he’s not entirely sure that situation is all that common. Still, it’s difficult when none of the self-help books can tell you what to do when your soulmate decides to take over the world with you by his side as his captive. 

“How is he today, Marty?” Graves asks the auror guarding the front gate. The man’s face tells him all he needs to know. This won’t be a pleasant visit. 

It had been 51 years since Albus Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald. America and the other countries Grindelwald had seized control of are under their own rule again. All of Grindelwald’s other captives are either dead, in hospitals somewhere, or have moved on with their lives. And Graves is stuck in Germany with the man who was supposed to be the one who would never hurt him, yet all but destroyed his life. 

Technically Graves could leave. He could return to America, to his family mansion or to his old apartment in New York. But the ache that came whenever he was away from Gellert for too long would increase until it would become all Graves could think about. 

Graves passes through the security checks. All more like formalities at this point. The guards know him and Nurmengard is protected by more than enough defensive spells to keep enemies out and its sole prisoner in. Still, even though Gellert hasn’t tried anything in over a decade, they can’t be too careful. 

Gellert’s reclining on his cot when Graves gets there, and doesn’t sit up as Graves conjures a folding chair. No stranger would believe by looking at Grindelwald that this is the man who brought country after country to its knees. His hair is long, grey, and ragged. His skin wrinkled, and cheeks sunken in. But Percival can remember the man when he was young. Blonde hair, smooth skin, and an air of arrogance and malevolence about him. Sitting on what could only be described as a throne in M.A.C.U.S.A’s court room. He can remember being forced to sit at the man’s side as his former colleagues were sentenced to death and the look of annoyance that crossed Gellert’s face every time Graves pleaded with him for mercy. After the first few times, Grindelwald had bound Graves to his chair and cast a silencing charm on him. It had pleased the man to have his soulmate at his side. It was only weeks after M.A.C.U.S.A’s fall, when Grindelwald had realized that Percival would never join him, had felt uneasy at the despondency that his soulmate was slipping into, and realized that having the old Director of Magical Security, a man from an old wizarding family and still respected by many, even some of Grindelwald’s followers, in obvious distress was bad publicity, that Grindelwald had allowed Percival to stop attending the trials. The man in the cell is a shell of the tyrant he used to be. But Gellert's eyes...they’re the same. They still convey the piercing intelligence that lurks in the man’s head. Right now, they hold anger and disdain, and even though Graves has long since trained himself not to react to the man’s ploys for sympathy, he can’t help but feel a stab of pain. 

“It’s late.” Gellert remarks. 

“7:00.” Percival’s learned that, on days like this, when he’s tired and just feels like collapsing but can’t ignore the pull, that it’s best to go at night. Then he can enjoy the day. If the visit goes well, it’s a good end to the day. If the visit goes badly, he can collapse into bed afterwards and let sleep make him forget. 

“Is it? The trouble with being here is that time gets away from you.” 

“Would you like a clock? Or a calendar? All you need to do is ask.” Gellert just shifts. 

“I went to a flea market today.” Percival offers. Sometimes the other wizard likes hearing about Percival’s day. Of course, other times it only makes him more irritable. Jealous that Graves gets to go anywhere he pleases when Grindelwald’s stuck in here. “I found some interesting looking books. If you’d like, I can give them to you after I finish with them.” Gellert gives a noncommittal grunt. “The leaves are changing colors right now. Soon they’ll start to fall and-” 

“I know!” Gellert snaps, gesturing toward his window. “I can see.” 

Silence hangs between them for a moment, then Percival says, “I brought you a newspaper.” He sends it through the slot for food. 

Grindelwald snatches it up quickly and thumbs through it. “Hmm...Albus is having a rough time, it seems.” 

“Voldemort’s back, but Fudge doesn’t want to believe it.” Percival says wearily. “Naturally anyone who disagrees with him is either crazy or a liar.” 

Gellert’s eyes flicker to Graves’ and for a moment Percival almost thinks they look concerned. “And you?” 

Percival shrugs. “I believe Albus, of course.” 

“No. I mean, what are _you_ doing?” 

“For now, I’m getting what information I can. Recruiting a bit. For now, Voldemort seems to be staying in England. But if he comes to Germany, we’ll need-” 

“No. You don’t _need_ to do anything.” Gellert sits up suddenly, swinging his legs off the bed so that he’s facing Graves. “You’re old. You’re retired. Stay out of this.” 

Graves laughs. “Why? You think things will improve for you if he comes this way?” 

“No, and they won’t for you either, so stay out of it. Let Albus and his friends deal with this.” 

Percival shakes his head. He thinks about telling Grindelwald that, old as he is, he can still best most wizards, that he is one of Albus’ friends, and that Grindelwald can’t tell him what to do anymore, but decides both of those things would sound too childish. Instead he looks around Gellert’s cell. “Do you need anything? Is there anything I can bring you?” 

Gellert looks irritated at the change of topic and leans forward. “No. I’m fine. You on the other hand...” 

“It’s not me you need to worry about.” 

“Of course not.” Grindelwald says mockingly. “You’re just signing up for any war that arises. Can’t look out for yourself any-” 

“I’m not debating this with you, Gellert.” Percival interrupts. He’s trying to be calm, but he can’t help but hear the words Grindelwald had said to him so many times before, all so long ago: _Don’t worry, dearest. You just relax and I’ll look out for you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again._ Percival has never been able to make Gellert see that nothing anyone’s ever done to him has hurt as much as when Gellert had held him prisoner. “What I choose to do with my time, including coming here, is my own business.” 

“That’s right.” Grindelwald agrees. “ _You’re_ free to go anywhere you wish. Do anything you choose. I, on the other hand-” 

“I won’t feel bad for you, if that’s what you’re trying to accomplish. You kept me a prisoner after all, and I didn’t do anything to deserve that. You’re responsible for death and destruction in almost every country in the world. Now it’s your turn to be imprisoned.” 

“Prisoner!” Gellert scoffs. “ __You lived in the lap of luxury. Silken sheets. Goose down pillows. Any food, drink, or trinket you desired. You had it easy. I on-”

“Easy?” Graves grinds out the word out, standing up so suddenly that his chair falls over. “I had it EASY?!?” 

Gellert’s eyes widen. It isn't unusual for them to argue. But it has been decades since Percival has allowed Grindelwald to get deep enough under his skin to cause Graves to lose control. 

“Do you...you don’t...YOU THINK I HAD IT EASY?” 

“Percival-” 

“NO! YOU DON’T GET TO SPEAK! MY FRIENDS! MY ALLIES! THEY DIED! I HAD TO WATCH THEM DIE AND KNOW IT WAS YOU, YOU WHO KILLED THEM! MY OWN SOULMATE! AND ALL THE WHILE YOU KEPT ME IN THAT ROOM, WITH EVERY MATERIAL COMFORT, AS IF I WAS SOME PAMPERED PET! AND NO MATTER WHAT I SAID, NO MATTER WHAT I DID, NO MATTER HOW I FELT ABOUT IT...IT DIDN'T MATTER TO YOU!” 

_“Of course it-”_

  
“OH, OF COURSE YOU CARED WHEN ME BEING UPSET GOT TO YOU! WHEN THE BOND MANAGED TO MAKE YOU ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT SOMEONE OTHER THAN YOUR DAMN SELF! SO YOU BRIBED ME WITH OFFERS YOU KNEW I COULDN’T REFUSE UNTIL I WAS JUST SEDATE ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER!” _Come on, Percival._ Graves can hear in his head. _Cheer up. I tell you what: You don’t argue with me for a few days and I’ll let one of your friends live. Sound fair?_ “BUT OF COURSE _I_ HAD TO CARE ABOUT WHAT _YOU_ FELT, BECAUSE I’M NOT A FUCKING MONSTER! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IT FELT KNOWING MY OWN SOULMATE WAS INTENTIONALLY MANIPULATING THE BOND JUST TO KEEP ME UNDER CONTROL?” 

At this, Gellert gives a start, but doesn’t try to protest. Maybe, against all odd, he actually feels guilty, or more likely he knows that Percival’s too angry to listen to anything he says. But Graves doesn’t really care which it is. 

“OF COURSE I KNEW! NOT THAT THAT MADE ME FEEL ANY BETTER, BUT THEN YOU NEVER CARED ABOUT ME, DID YOU? DO YOU HAVE ANY CONCEPT WHAT IT WAS LIKE? HAVING TO CONSTANTLY CATER TO YOUR EVERY WHIM BECAUSE IF I MADE YOU TOO UPSET YOU’D KILL ANOTHER HOSTAGE? YOU WERE MY SOULMATE AND I HAD TO LIVE ON EGGSHELLS AROUND YOU!” Graves laughs bitterly and shakes his head, suddenly feeling tired. “YOU...you...you...think...that...was...easy... Well, it figures. You’ve never cared about how your actions affected anyone but yourself. I’m...I can’t do this anymore, Gellert. I’m done. I won’t be back.” 

Percival turns and leaves without bothering to vanish the chair. He doesn’t look up as the guards mutter their goodbyes to him, knowing that at least some of them must have heard every word he said. He plans to go home, down a bottle of vodka, and go to sleep. He wishes that he could go back to America, or maybe to Scotland. He and Albus had grown close after the war, and it would be nice to see the man again. But in his heart Graves knows that this is temporary. Within a week, the pull will be so strong that he’s no longer punishing just Grindelwald but himself. He’ll be back, and maybe they’ll ignore this little outburst or maybe they’ll talk about it. But Graves will be back, just as he’ll always need to return to Gellert until the day one of them dies. 


End file.
